


The many hues of love

by MordredLJselfship (mordredllewelynjones)



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood, Don't Like Don't Read, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Murder, Not Reader Insert, POV Third Person, Polyamory, Romantic Soulmates, Self-Insert, Soulmate Colour AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-20 08:12:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19372741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordredllewelynjones/pseuds/MordredLJselfship
Summary: In a world where until one meets their soulmate their vison remains in black and white, three men in Gotham try and figure out how to unlock the kaleidoscopic colours which only love can bring.A Riddlesongbird self ship fic.Self insert not reader insert. If you don't like it then don't read or interact.No sex or rude stuff in this fic.





	1. Green and Purple

Colour. The world was painted all over with its hues; dark, bright, vibrant and dull. There was nothing that wasn’t graced with its touch. However, the kaleidoscopic truth of existence was visible only to a few. You see, from birth onwards everyone saw the world through the same monochrome lens. It was like living in a black and white noir gangster movie. That was, of course, until one saw their soulmate for the first time. Only then did the rest of the universe’s colour filled beauty fall into place. It was a life changing moment that most people spent every waking hour longing for. Like most of life’s mysteries; however, it was not something one could predict. You never knew it when it would happen or what sort of person you would meet when it did.

  
Gotham, even when viewed in colour, was a dark hellhole of a place. In truth; if it weren’t for the neon signs which adorned most of the clubs it would be hard to tell if you had met your soulmate or not, it was such a gloomy grey and black city. It was dank, grimy and full of crime. A place that no person would ever wish to be, surely?

  
This was not true though, despite the city’s many down sides. The place tended to attract certain groups of people; the poor with no where better to go, insane lunatics looking for their own personally playground, people desperate to cut ties from their past and recreate themselves in their own image and, finally, those of an ambitious yet criminal persuasion who saw the city as an opportunity to make it big.

  
Oswald Cobblepot was the latter although he was a Gothamite born and bred, not a newcomer looking for their place in the world (his mother could not say the same.) He knew Gotham in ways which others didn’t, saw it in ways that others couldn’t.

  
This was why he was now the biggest mob boss in town. Having used his cunning mind to claw his way up to the top he was now head of the mafia in the most crime ridden city in the world and he relished every second of it. His self given title, ‘The King of Gotham’, made that all too plain. It was not all fun and games though. The Penguin, the alias which most of Gotham knew him by, had a traditional approach to crime. His business and therefor his ‘kingdom’ was ruled with an iron fist, everyone held accountable and punished accordingly. Along with the sense of power and confidence which he seemed to naturally radiate this made him an imposingly intimidating figure and one which very few were foolish enough to cross.

  
Such a man could not afford weaknesses which was why, as time went on and the world remained as colourless as ever, Oswald remained glad that his soulmate had turned out to be a no show. It was not that he wasn’t a caring or sentimental man, anyone who had seen how much he doted on his mother could tell you otherwise. It was that he was all to aware of the tricks and traps of his trade. He knew that should his enemies, of which there were many, gain access to his loved ones then they could be used against him. As he had once said himself, ‘If you know what a man loves then you know how to destroy him.’ It was better that he stayed unattached. The less he had the less he had to lose. Fate; however, decided to go against his wishes.

  
It happened during a visit to the GCPD. One which had been distinctly non-eventful for the most part. Oswald had approached Jim Gordon about a favour, something which the cop owed him in bucketful's, but was turned down yet again. In spite of the friendship he tried to maintain with the detective this left Oswald’s temper running high and it wasn’t long before he went storming off in the direction of the door. He had more important things to do than try to reason with stubborn idiots. Jim would come round eventually and if he didn’t then it would be his loss.

  
It was as he made his way towards the exit that something in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he stopped dead. Oswald turned around to stare across the bullpen at that which had unexpectedly snared his attention. No, his eyes were not playing tricks on him. He had hoped that they were but he was destined to be disappointed. There, now plain as day after so many years of being invisible to him, was the colour green. Rather than approach the shocked looking forensic scientist, who’s basil shaded jumper was peeking out from underneath his too tight lab coat, Oswald turned tail and fled with as much dignity as he could muster.

  
*********************************

  
Today had been a boring day for Edward Nygma. Not that he hadn’t been busy, murder and crime in general were as rampant as ever in Gotham city’s street. However, it had all been the same old thing. Street gangs bumping each other off and stuff like that.

  
There had been nothing bizarre or fantastical at all lately, nothing of interest, and it showed in the lab tech’s mood. He knew that he shouldn’t find the lack of secret cults and mysterious deaths frustrating but he did. It was those little puzzles of life which got Edward through the day and without them the days were quickly becoming dreary which only served to aggravate him still further.

  
When he had moved to Gotham a couple of years ago he had hoped to bring some meaning to his life yet he was still searching. Still searching for himself, still searching for his place in the world. Work was supposed to be a distraction from all that but at the moment it wasn’t fulfilling its purpose.

  
In a desperate attempt to find something to do, having finished all his paperwork for his current cases, Edward left the lab in search of Jim Gordon. If anyone had an interesting case for him to sink his teeth into it would be him. Jim had a habit of getting himself get caught up in all kinds of trouble. All thoughts of work were driven out of Ed’s head the moment he entered the main precinct; however.

  
Across the room, talking with the homicide detective that Edward had previously been making a beeline for, was Oswald Cobblepot. The Penguin. Ed gasped quietly as he stared at the crime lord in incredulous disbelief.

  
Although he had secretly dreamed of this moment his whole life Edward could never in his wildest dreams have imagined that his first taste of colour would be like this. Oswald Cobblepot! There must be some mistake. As if he, boring friendless Ed, could be the soulmate of the most notorious villain in Gotham. Yet it did not change the fact that Edward's world was now graced by the purple tint of Penguin's gorgeous waistcoat.

  
Perhaps it was one sided, Edward wondered. Could such a thing happen? In the research he had done in his spare time about the phenomenon of colour he had never heard mention of it but the fact that he was destined to be one with the King of Gotham was one which he was having trouble believing. Still, it was not a situation he could really ignore.

  
He watched as the mafia boss brought his heated conversation with Jim Gordon to an end before heading for the door. He doesn't even know I'm alive, Edward thought mournfully although he felt he should have expected as much. His own work colleagues barely acknowledged his existence so why should the King of Gotham? As if someone like him would be interested in him anyway. Perhaps it was better that Penguin never knew of their connection.

  
It was at that moment that Oswald stopped on the steps and turned back. Edward swallowed nervously as he felt the man's gaze land on him and saw his eyes widened in surprise. He could see it too! Edward’s heart swelled with fearful excitement in the hope that perhaps this was when his life finally began to feel worth living.

  
Before he could decide what to do next; however, the moment had passed. Penguin was limping out of the door as quickly as he was able. Ed watched on in dismay. Why was the man running away from him? Abandoning all caution and disregarding what his colleagues might say later, Ed rushed out onto the street after him but Cobblepot's car was already driving away. Feeling crushed and rejected it took everything in him not to cry out in despair. To catch a glimpse of beauty, to see for one brief second the possibilities life could hold only for it to vanish almost immediately was maddening.

  
Taking a deep breath Edward pushed down his confusion and disappointment as he made his way back inside. Not that he intended to get back to work. That all seemed utterly pointless to him now. No, instead he made his way to the records room and asked Miss Kringle for all the files pertaining to the Penguin. Edward wasn't sure what he was going to do with the information but he knew that he wasn't going to let this go without a fight.

  
His first experience of colour had not been what he had expected. In all the studies he had read over the years all case subjects had described a whirlwind of vibrant hues yet as he looked around him the world remained, for the most part, as black and white as ever. He wasn't sure what the cause of this was but he had the feeling that the answer lay with his soulmate, Oswald Cobblepot, and if there was one thing Edward couldn't stand it was an unsolved riddle.


	2. Red and Purple

This was simply not fair. As far as Mordred was concerned there should be a limit to how much bad luck someone could suffer in one day and he was fairly sure that if such a limit existed then today would have pushed him over it.

  
For example; today he had received an eviction notice and been told that he only had two weeks to find a new place, all three of the job interviews he had attended today had ended in disaster and now, having risked going out in the evening to spend his last scrap of money on a measly amount of food shopping, it seemed as though he was being mugged.

  
The set up was classic, two burley men behind and another two in front. The grimy walls of the skinny alleyway which he found himself sandwiched between meant that he was now surrounded. Mordred heaved a heavy sigh and turned his head to the heavens. He was not in the mood for this right now (not that anyone was ever generally in the mood for getting mugged.)

  
"Look, unless you want to steal my frozen pizza then you are wasting your time" he pointed out in a tired voice "I don't have any money or anything else of value for that matter. Might I suggest that next time you choose a target who at least has a job. You might have more luck." Whatever faint hopes Mordred had had of talking his way out of this situation were dashed by the gloating laugh of one of the would be assailants.

  
"Do you seriously think we are going to fall for that?" the man sneered incredulously "Every person we meet tells us they don't have money yet I still make more from doing this than I would working at a petrol station. So no, we won't be letting you go. What do you think I am? Stupid?" His cronies laughed along with him as they took a step closer.

  
Mordred rolled his eyes and put down his shopping bag. He guessed today was just determined to disappoint him. Well one thing was for sure, he didn't want to spend another minute in this dirty back alley if he could help it. That being the case he might as well give an honest answer.

  
"Yes."

  
"Yes what?" the talkative one of the bunch asked, tilting his head to one side in a clueless manner.

  
"I do think you are stupid" Mordred replied coldly.

  
The, now furious, group of men surged forwards only to be cut down like corn by the dagger Mordred had pulled out in self defence. Within just a few short seconds every one of them was dead.

  
The lone survivor pocketed his knife once more and looked despairingly down at his favourite suit. He doubted he'd ever get the blood out and it wasn't as if he had an unlimited wardrobe. What was he going to wear to job interviews now? Sighing for what felt like the one thousandth time that day, Mordred picked up his shopping bag and stepped carefully over the corpses which now littered the floor.

  
Just as he thought the accursed phrase 'This day couldn't get any worse' the sound of footsteps could be heard close by, hardly noticeable but most definitely approaching.

Panicking at the thought of what would happen should he be caught (and not entirely convinced that the corrupt courts of Gotham would believe a plea of self defence) Mordred ran as fast as he could, colliding with a group of people by accident before practically launching himself across the road without so much as checking for oncoming traffic. A voice yelled after him indignantly, causing him to glance back over his shoulder and what he saw made him stop in his tracks.

  
Purple. Till now the marvel of colour had been a mystery to him, and one he had been in no great hurry to unravel the secrets of if truth be told, but now his world of black, white and grey had been unexpectedly brightened. So preoccupied was he with gaping curiously at this new discovery that for a moment Mordred didn't notice the identity of the group of people who he had so rudely charged straight through. Then the facts caught up with him and he gasped in horror. Stood on the opposite side of the road, looking positively regal in a waistcoat of deep violet, was The Penguin and an entourage of some of his toughest henchmen. All of whom were glaring at him.

The Penguin? Oswald Cobblepot himself, was Mordred's soulmate? He simply couldn't believe it. Given his current situation; however, Mordred decided to file that away to think about later and, despite his aching curiosity, elected to turn tail and flee once more. As first impressions went he doubted he had made a good one and although the King of Gotham wasn't known for working alongside common muggers if there was even the slightest chance that the men he had just killed had been Penguins followers...well, he didn't want to stick around and find out what would happen next.

  
***************************

  
If Penguin was honest with himself, his attention had not been as focussed on his work as it should have been. Despite having many dangerous adversaries and allies to deal with, a task which required him to keep his wits about him at all times, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back to the events from earlier that day. The events which had taken place back at the GCPD.

  
His mother had talked so often about the magical way in which the world had seemed to come alive the moment she had set eyes on his father and yet the experience she had recounted had been rather different to his own. She insisted that colour was all around them and there were more varieties than could ever be described but as Oswald looked around him he was still faced with mostly monochrome surroundings, punctured only occasionally by splashes of green. Why was that?

  
Whenever he tried to cast his mind around for an answer to that question; however, he found that it inevitably drifted back to the man who he had failed to introduce himself to that morning. Who was he? What was he like? How did he feel about the fact that Gotham's most notorious crime lord was his soulmate? Did he even know? Despite the fact that Oswald had sworn long ago not to get involved with his predestined partner, should he ever find them of course, a part of him longed to get to know the man. Perhaps they could be partners in crime. He pushed that notion away almost as soon as it came. The man worked for the GCPD and therefore was unlikely to be accepting of Oswald's way of life. It would be better to simply forget about him.

  
So preoccupied was he with such thoughts that Oswald failed to hear the sound of running footsteps heading his way as he and his henchmen walked through a particularly run down quarter of the Narrows, not realising that he should expect company until it was too late. He gave a cry of alarm but mostly outrage as a man came bowling into him seemingly out of nowhere, not bothering to stop and apologize before continuing on his way. As his goons pulled out their guns, ready to shoot the man as soon as he gave the word, Oswald smoothed the creases from his suit before turning to address the retreating figure.

  
"What do you think you are doing?! Get back here!" he screamed angrily but found that his voice had all but deserted him a second later. Until now he hadn't paid much attention to how this mysterious stranger looked, he had been too absorbed in his own discomfort whilst seething over this grievous insult of an encounter. Now though he could see the man clearly and he felt his heart leap up into his throat.

  
Red. There it was, bright and unmistakable, there for all the world to see. Its presence on his new 'acquaintance' was not only limited to a pair of leather gloves but also some suspicious looking blotches on his suit, still glistening wet and destined to become immovable stains. Oswald wandered what they were. As the man stared back across the road at him in unabashed amazement, Oswald debated whether he should just ask him.

  
Although Penguin had by no means forgotten his vow not interact with his soulmate his confusion at his current situation was simply too much. Two men, two colours. What did it mean? Was it possible to have more than one soulmate? He didn't know but he felt that if he was ever to discover the answer he would have to reconsider his self imposed rule.   
Just as Oswald made the decision to formally introduce himself; however, the stranger seemed to break out of his reverie and recommenced his hasty flight. "Don't shoot" Penguin ordered as his lackeys fingers itched on their triggers. Soon the mystery man was completely out of sight.

  
With a heavy sigh Oswald did his best to pull himself together before continuing on his way. As much as he might want to abandon all his previous plans so as to start tracking down the two living anomalies he had encountered that day, he couldn't. Not yet anyway. A few of his remaining tasks could be delegated but there was one thing he wanted to take care of in person. You could only trust brainless thugs so far after all.

  
The matter in question involved a rival mob boss going by the name of Dexter who was getting too big for his boots. An example needed to be made, a message sent. Oswald had, out of common decency, invited his adversary to a sit down to discuss terms but had been rudely snubbed. This would not be allowed to stand. Penguin's solution was a classic mafia tactic; to kill some of the other crime lord's followers, a small group of muggers and part time protection money collectors to be exact, to show that he was not a man to be trifled. A reminder to all who opposed him that he was a dangerous man to underestimate.

  
These well thought out plans were put on ice the moment Penguin and his men rounded the corner, much to everyone's surprise. There, lying in a pool of their own blood, lay the men which Oswald had come to slay. His henchmen began to bombard him with questions, looking for orders, but he waved these aside impatiently as he gazed in grim fascination at the crimson fluid which covered the scene. It had been blood then, the substance covering the mystery person’s suit which lead Oswald to the inevitable conclusion that they were the one responsible for this horrific spectacle. Now the hurried nature of their chance encounter made more sense Penguin thought to himself. He found that in light of this new information the small residual fragment which had remained of his anger was ebbing away. The man had no doubt just been worried about getting caught which Oswald could completely understand and sympathize with.

  
“What are we going to do now boss?”

  
Oswald turned to Butch, the largest and highest ranking of his men and the only one brave enough to disregard a direct order for silence, considering the matter carefully before giving his reply.

  
“We simply carry on with the rest of the plan. We send the bodies to Dexter and make it clear to him that unless he agrees to meet with us he will suffer much worse losses in the future."

  
“But we didn’t kill them” Butch pointed out.

  
Oswald couldn’t help but roll his eyes at this comment. “Dexter doesn’t need to know that though, does he?” he replied, not bothering to hide the patronising tone in his voice.

  
Butch nodded before bringing the rest of Penguin’s thugs over to carry out the boss’ plan. That sorted to his satisfaction he followed Oswald back to the mouth of the alleyway and awaited further instructions. He didn’t have to wait long.

  
“Cancel the rest of my plans for today” Oswald ordered “I have some important matters to attend to.” He made to walk away but, changing his mind, turned back to his trusted right hand with one lasted request. “And Butch” he asked “I need two tails put out. One on the man we just met and the other on an employee at the GCPD. Neither of them are to be contacted in anyway and no violence is to be used against them. Is that understood? I just want to know their movements and backgrounds. That is all. Can you do that for me?”

  
“Sure thing, Boss.”


End file.
